Cain

No wonder Cain
spent all his days
restless and confused,
his only reading material

a Bible that was
still on the first chapter,
his murderous ways
taking over the plot

before there was anyone
well-meaning and kind
in its pages.
He saw his own face

staring up out of Genesis,
sour and wild-eyed,
drenched with the blood
from his hands.

What chance had he in life?
His parents were
the original sinners,
too busy feeling guilt

to lavish love on their sons.
When was the last time
his mother called him dear?
When did Adam

ever look on him
as anything other
than the progenitor
of all the people to come?

But surely he was more
than seed, more than the forebear
of a Roman consul
or an American politician.

He hated Abel because
his brother just
kept his head down,
worked the land, uncomplainingly.

He killed Abel
because it seemed
the only answer
to all that went unquestioned.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Lana Turner and International Poetry Review.